


(No)oodles of Fun

by Form_Voretron



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Emetophilia, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Form_Voretron/pseuds/Form_Voretron
Summary: McCree discovers that beating a record isn't always wise, especially when it is at the expensive of his own gastric functions.





	(No)oodles of Fun

**Author's Note:**

> -CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF A CHARACTER BEING SICK. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED-
> 
> A little different to the stuff I've written before, mostly due to a lack of motivation and the sudden desire to write a kink that I've never written before. This is not indicative of the stuff I usually write, and I'm unsure as to whether I'll return to emetophilia in the future. Who knows! 
> 
> I also suck as writing endings and copped out in that regard.

“Wow, I never anticipated seeing _anyone_ beat that ramen stand’s ramen bowl record,” Genji enthused as he walked alongside McCree, “Are you feeling alright?”

McCree groaned as he trapesed down the dimly-lit street, which was nearly pitch black save for the flickering of red and white lanterns alongside the traiditional Japanese houses. He had one hand clutching his belly and was trying his best to rub it as he moved, which wasn’t altogether easy. Proud as he was, McCree couldn’t help but feel distinctly unnerved by the loud sloshing and rolling noises that were bubbling up from his belly. The thick noodles and oily broth had _not_ settled in his gut by any means. If only he had been able to ignore the impulse to prove Genji wrong when the ninja had doubted his ability to beat the record!

“M’fine…” McCree mumbled, his voice sounded groggy, as if the man had imbibed a bar’s worth of beer rather than a whole stack of ramen bowls, although the ensuing gastric disturbance was probably about the same.

“You look a little green,” Genji observed, his voice casual as he trotted by McCree’s side.

“I said am’ fine,” McCree replied, an edge of frustration to his voice, brought about by Genji’s apparent concern and the upset in his stomach. All he needed to do was to sleep off the ramen and forget about this whole ordeal by the morning. He would still be able to claim bragging rights and would preferably never see another ramen bowl for the rest of his life. Blugh. Even the thought of one was making his stomach churn, large and distended as it was.

They soon reached Genji’s abode; a small apartment that the ninja used whenever he was far from the Shimada castle. The ninja pushed inside, with McCree half-waddling in behind him, clutching his agonised belly in both hands now.

“Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water?” Genji asked, already making for the kitchen as McCree hiccoughed behind him. Odd. He had never encountered an individual who got hiccoughs from food before. He looked back to see the cowboy clutching at his mouth.

McCree’s response was quick, as if he only had seconds to urge a reply from his mouth, “Please.”

Genji nodded and dashed to the kitchen, filling up a tall glass of water, but not before rummaging through the fridge. He spotted some leftover rice and a few slices of pork that he had saved from last night, and was humming thoughfully as he returned to the living room.

“Here we are; a fresh glass of water,” Genji chimed as crossed towards McCree, “I’m not sure if you’re still hungry after all that, but I spotted some leftover rice and pork in the-.”

He was cut off. Not verbally, but by the sound of a sudden heave followed by the strikingly odd sound of something that wasn’t entirely solid nor entirely liquid splattering onto the floor. Genji’s eyes widened, his eyes set on the yellow-brown mess of gastric juices and undigested food that now decorates his pristine house. Next came the smell, as it didn’t take long for the smell of sharp, acrid, acidic bile to reach his nose. His nose wrinkled reflexively, but he fought the urge to cover it with his arm; concern for McCree soon came to the forefront of his mind once his initial shock had passed.

The cowboy himself was stood clutching his stomach, half-slouched and covering his mouth, although it was obvious that the gesture had been far too late. Saliva and flecks of the same mess that was on his carpet oozed from the man’s fingers and from his chin, while McCree snapped his eyes shut, perhaps out of embarrassment, perhaps out of discomfort. He hiccoughed again, his form jolting as another heave wracked through his body, causing him to wince even more.

Genji stepped forward, dodging the mess on the floor, “McCree, are you okay!?”

He spotted McCree’s Adam’s apple bobbing away, as if to keep more of the bile down. The other man soon removed his hand from his mouth, and Genji had to fight the urge to wince as he saw the strands of viscuous, murky-brown saliva that remained connected to it.

“T-Toilet,” McCree groaned, before another loud heave bubbled up from his chest.

“Oh, of course!”

Genji was soon hurriedly guiding McCree to his bathroom, where he eased the man down to his knees and set his head above the bowl. He placed his hand to McCree’s back and began rub in slow circles as the man heaved and groaned.

“Y’know, it’s funny, because this reminds me of a time when Hanzo had to look after me when I ate some bad sushi.”

McCree responded by producing another heave that chucked up a gutful of sick, splattering against the bowl.

“Ah, probably not the best time, I suppose!”

McCree groaned, hiccoughing again before his body pushed up the sudden air bubble that had been dislodged by his heaving and throwing up.

“Bw-ooORP!”

Genji winced again and patted the man’s back, occasionally flushing the toilet in an attempt to keep at least _one_ room clean. Genji hated being sick himself, and he couldn’t imagine how bad it must have felt to throw up half-digested noodles. It _looked_ uncomfortable, and so the man had no immediate desire to experience the sensation first hand.

McCree seemed to still after ten minutes of throwing up and heaving and was now resting his forehead against his densly-haired forearm. He hiccoughed occasionally, his body shuddering as he groaned.

“Are you feeling better?” Genji asked.

“A lil’,” McCree groaned, a gentle shiver running up his back as a low, brassy burp bubbled up from his gut. He winced with a sigh and set his head back down against his arm.

“I could fetch that water for you, if you’d like?”

“Please,” McCree replied, “Some water would be mighty fine right now.”

“You sure I couldn’t interest you in that rice and pork?” Genji asked with a playful grin, only to widen his eyes as McCree suddenly heaved and chucked up a fresh gutful of sick which had Genji ducking his head apologetically as headed back for the water, “Sorry!”


End file.
